


no way out

by connorswhisk



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DC Extended Universe, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Emotionally Repressed, F/F, Pining, rewatched bop and knew what i had to do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 21:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorswhisk/pseuds/connorswhisk
Summary: There has always, Helena reflects, been something about Dinah Lance.or, Huntress and Canary, and how they got there
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	no way out

**Author's Note:**

> these two have been calling for me to write for them for months now, so i finally did it
> 
> title taken from i'm gonna love you just a little more baby by summer walker

There has always, Helena reflects, been something about Dinah Lance. Something more than her hair, and her voice, and her tight pants (and _God,_ are they tight). Helena had known from the first moment she’d set eyes on her that there was something…something _about_ the Black Canary, something that she’s never quite been able to put into words, or even into her thoughts.

Helena’s a very isolated person, has been for the greater part of her life. Seeing your entire family murdered right in front of you, being splattered with your loved ones’ blood and brain matter, staring straight into the cold and lifeless eyes of your own mother’s corpse - it fucks you _up,_ obviously.

And since she’d spent years training for her revenge, Helena isn’t great socially. She can hit a fly on the wall with her bow from thirty paces, she knows how to snap someone’s neck without ending their life, she’s killed with everything from katanas to her bare hands - but she finds it difficult to keep a conversation alive, to make eye contact with another person, to not be so _awkward._

Canary can fight _and_ she can talk, and when she does, Helena listens.

Without Canary, Helena wouldn’t have even joined the Birds of Prey. She’d finished her quest of vengeance at last, and both Victor Zsasz and Roman Sionis were finally dead - Helena hadn’t known what to do next, but she’d figured she’d stay in Gotham for a while, find something to do with all her millions, and continue to keep to herself.

And then, one night, there’d been a knock at the door of her apartment, and when Helena had answered it, her breath had caught in her throat and her tongue had twisted itself into a thousand knots, and Canary had raised a single eyebrow and asked, “Can I come in?”

Helena had silently stepped aside. Canary had told her about the team that she and Renee were planning on putting together, had asked Helena if she was interested.

“What,” Helena had said in disbelief, watching Dinah drink her wine and lounge on her futon like she belonged there (and maybe she sort of did). “You want me to join you guys?”

“ _Duh,_ ” Dinah had said, and taken another sip from her glass. “You were there with us at the amusement park when we kicked all that ass, weren’t you?”

“Well, _yeah._ ” Helena had swallowed. “But you and Montoya can handle stuff fine on your own. You don’t need me to be there.”

Canary had scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me, girl?”

Helena hadn’t had a good response to that, and the next day, she’d met with Dinah and Renee to discuss plans for the future.

And now it’s been six months - six months of working with the others, sometimes teaming up with Harley and Cass, and forming a begrudging alliance with Batman; six months since the Birds were first founded, and about six and a half since Helena had clamped her hands over her ears and watched Canary scream waves of pure sound _,_ knocking out every single one of the Black Mask’s goons that stood in her way, looking beautiful and badass and utterly _powerful_ all at the same time - in other words, it’s been six and a half months since Helena Bertinelli had looked at Dinah Lance, a woman she’d known for barely an hour, and thought to herself, _Oh._

Helena’s no stranger to her sexuality, but she’s never felt anything like _this_ before. There had been a couple of girls back in Sicily (Giorgia Iapalucci with the ribbons in her hair, Sofia Esposito’s bright green eyes, Bianca Rosetti and her sly smiles), and a one-night-stand here and there in Japan, Brazil, Russia - but those had been school-girl crushes, or meaningless hours of sex, and with Canary, it’s different, with Canary, it’s special, with Canary, it’s… _oh._

The infuriating resonance of a simple two-letter _oh._ Helena has no idea what a true relationship like that feels like, and she’s too afraid to take the plunge and find out.

But Helena won’t tell her how she feels, _can’t_ tell her, because knowing Helena, she’d trip over her words and sweat unattractively from her armpits - and Dinah would hate her, she knows she would.

Helena’s been an island this long. She can definitely go for longer.

“You love her,” Renee says bluntly over coffee one morning, and Helena chokes on her mocha and coughs loudly, attracting the affronted glances of the customers sitting at the nearby tables.

“ _What?”_ Helena splutters, as Renee wordlessly hands her a fistful of napkins to clean herself up with. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Renee shakes her head. “Girl, you know I was a detective, right? It used to be my _job_ to pick up on the small details.” She shrugs. “‘Course, anyone would know as soon as they spent enough time around you and her.”

“Shit,” Helena mutters, tossing the sopping wad of paper napkins into the center of the table. “Am I really that obvious?”

“Honey, even _Batman_ knows.”

Helena raises her eyebrows. “Do you have like, a personal text thread with him or something?”

Renee waves her hand noncommittally. “Doesn’t matter. All I’m sayin’ is, everyone can tell.” She takes a swig of her Americano. “Everyone except Canary, that is. When are you gonna spill to her?”

Helena shakes her head frantically. “No, I - you know I can’t do that, Renee. I’ve never been in a stable relationship like that before. I’d fuck it up so fast. Besides, I…well, there’s just no way Dinah feels the same for me. I know that.”

Renee scoffs. “Are you fuckin’ with me, Bertinelli?”

Helena frowns. “No…?”

Renee lifts her cup to her mouth and says, “Maybe you don’t really know as much as you think you do,” and then, “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.”

Helena opens her mouth to fire back a retort, though what exactly it will be, she’s not sure, but at that moment, Canary walks into the shop with a jingle of the bell, and Helena shuts her trap, quicker than lightning.

“Sorry for being late,” Canary says breathlessly, wrapping an arm around both of them and pulling them into a quick hug. “Traffic’s a bitch this morning.”

“No worries,” Renee says, smiling. “We were just talkin’ about love and gooey shit that you wouldn’t be interested in, anyway.”

Dinah snorts and leaves to get in line for her drink. Helena glares sharply across the table, feeling her cheeks burn, burn in tune with the feeling of Dinah’s fingers along the skin of her neck.

“Just tellin’ the truth,” Renee says, smirking, and cackles into her mug.

She doesn’t take Renee’s advice - she _can’t,_ there’s no way any good could ever come out of it - opting instead to do what she’s been doing for half a year: staying mostly quiet, trying not to get distracted by how hot Dinah looks when she’s kicking ass, and most definitely _not saying anything to Canary,_ despite all the longing and the wanting and the _ohs._

That’s how it goes, day after day, job after job - until it doesn’t.

The two of them are intercepting a drug shipment down at the docks, crates and crates full of cocaine for the Falcone crime family coming into Gotham harbor from somewhere down south - Renee’s visiting her brother and his wife and kids out in Cleveland, and Helena and Canary only got the tip-off about the exchange just last night, so they’re going at it as a duo instead of a trio.

It definitely doesn’t get to her. The being alone with Dinah, that is.

It’s difficult to see in the dim early morning light of the shipyard, but Huntress was born from darkness, and she moves swiftly undercover within it, sending bolts out of her crossbow into the throats of goons while Canary acts as a much louder distraction.

They knock out all the mobsters and get their hands on the cargo pretty quick, considering they’re down a number (though if Renee were here, it would have gone faster - and Helena probably wouldn’t have gotten stabbed in the shoulder by that one guy that reminded her of Bill Clinton), and are speeding away in the van, fast - when a truck full of backup goons pulls out in front of them, and the bullets start to fly.

“ _Keep driving!”_ Dinah yells, sticking her head out of the window, and Helena presses her foot down on the pedal harder and pats herself on the back for remembering to put in her earplugs before getting in the car.

Canary screams; Helena hears it, though muffled, and even through the foam plugs, it still leaves her ears ringing. The car full of henchmen flips out of the way, completely overpowered by sheer sound, and Helena speeds down the street and doesn’t let up until they’re a safe number of blocks away.

She parks at the side of the road, in front of a closed laundromat with a fizzling neon sign out front, and Dinah laughs and laughs, and keeps laughing, so Helena laughs with her.

Helena never used to laugh at anything. Not when she was training hard for the work she knew she had to carry out.

A lot has changed since Sicily.

“ _Did you see that?_ ” Helena says, face aching from smiling too wide, and her shoulder stings, but she doesn’t care.

“ _God,_ I love our job,” Dinah replies, body shaking, eyes full of mirthful tears.

“Me too,” Helena chokes out, holding her sides. “Me too.”

When their hysteria eventually dies away, Dinah is still looking at her, in a way that sends butterflies fluttering through Helena’s stomach.

“What?” she asks nervously. “Do I have blood on my face or something?”

Dinah shakes her head, the smile still playing at the edges of her lips, and says, “No, you just - “

And then she breaks off, shakes her head a second time, and before Helena can register what’s happening, she leans across the center console and presses her mouth to Helena’s.

She’s so shocked, she can’t even find it in her to kiss back.

Canary pulls away after barely a moment, lips parted. She’s breathing heavily (Helena is, too), and Helena watches the rise and fall of her chest, up, down, up, down, in steady rhythm.

“Sorry,” Canary murmurs, smile gone.

“No,” Helena whispers. “No, it’s ok. I - I liked it.”

She feels her cheeks flush pink.

“You did?” Dinah asks, and her expression looks hopeful.

Helena nods slowly, chest hammering. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Dinah hesitates, swallows, places her cool hands on either side of Helena’s face. Helena can hear her pulse pounding in her ears.

“ _Helena,_ ” Dinah says breathily.

“ _Dinah,_ ” Helena returns, and this time, she’s the one who leans in first, and Canary’s lips are soft, and Helena’s blood is roaring, and Canary moans softly against her mouth, moving her hands up to fist in Helena’s hair, and _oh._

_oh oh oh._

_Oh. That’s_ what it feels like.

**Author's Note:**

> i think if huntress and canary kissed it would be pretty Neat
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](https://connorswhisk.tumblr.com) to scream about dc/bop/harlivy/etc with me some more :)


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